


Good Things Come In Small Packages

by sweetNsimple



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Piercing, Communication Failure, Consensual Sex, Desk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gay Mikhail Victor, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pet Names, Piercings, Size Difference, Top Mikhail/Bottom Sergei, dick piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: Mikhail was not giving Sergei the level of attention he was used to. Being an intelligent man, Sergei was able to understand what this meant: Obviously, Mikhail was going to leave him. There was no other logical answer. None whatsoever.
Relationships: Mikhail Victor/Sergei Vladimir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	Good Things Come In Small Packages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnotherAnon0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940397) by [TheSilverWxlf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverWxlf/pseuds/TheSilverWxlf). 



Mikhail was planning on leaving him.

Sergei was an intelligent, driven man. He did not waste time on uncertainty, he prepared for possibilities. He prepared himself for the very real possibility that Mikhail was done with him.

Should Sergei return with a swift and unforgettable retribution? It was not often that Sergei allowed others into his inner circle. Nikolai was his best friend and closest confidante, and Sergei held even him at arm’s length should that cold glint in his friend’s eye ever turn into a knife in Sergei’s back. Mikhail was far more trustworthy and honorable, and that was part of why sleeping next to him was so simple. Mikhail was too proud to kill an unconscious man. If he meant to murder Sergei, he would wake him up first and offer him some means of protecting himself such as a blade.

There was the dilemma. Part of it at the least. Mikhail wasn’t sleeping with him anymore. He hadn’t been for the past two months. They had sex, of course, but it had become… impersonal. Unfulfilling. Mikhail would turn around, drop his pants, and let Sergei fuck him, but he refused to be naked and he would not return the favor of allowing Sergei his favorite treat of Mikhail’s cock buried in any of his orifices. Mikhail was a small man, twenty centimeters shorter than Sergei and twelve kilograms lighter, and Sergei was convinced that half of the man’s weight came from the third leg that dangled between his two others.

As he had heard Lord Spencer say it, ‘Good things come in small packages’, and Mikhail’s cock was a _very_ good thing. Being denied was like a slap in Sergei’s face.

Mikhail’s personality was… also pleasant. He spoke to Sergei without fear and would not back down from a debate based on their differences in beliefs. Even Nikolai, who he considered a little brother, would only mutter at best during an argument, unwilling to stand for anything. Mikhail had both of his feet firmly planted and was an unmovable object in the way of Sergei’s unstoppable force, ready to tell Sergei off if he so much as breathed wrong.

And he was also incredibly kind, even to Sergei who was his colonel. He treated his subordinates with humanity and his hands were always affectionate when they touched Sergei. A gentle, strong man.

Sergei had not known him to be so cruel.

Their debates and conversations had not waned, at the least. Only that the intimacy had perished. Mikhail did not hesitate to comb his thick fingers through Sergei’s hair and he was just as quick as always to kiss him, but he would not let Sergei disrobe him, he would not let Sergei _touch_ him, and the chill in their love life was affecting his everyday ability to function.

As he dwelled on emotions of hurt and abandonment, he also became cruel.

Mikhail noticed very quickly.

Sergei had a permanent residence in the Rockfort Island Barracks, even though he typically did not live there. Since he was not entertaining Mikhail in his bedroom as frequently as he once had, he had instead retreated to his office until such a time that he could leave the dreadful location behind.

His door slammed open and Mikhail stalked in, his expression set in severe lines of displeasure.

“Sergei! What is the meaning of this?” Mikhail launched in Russian, their first language.

“You will have to be more specific, comrade,” Sergei replied lightly. “Are you asking about the meaning of life? Of death? Of the word,” he took a cursory glance at the papers spread before him for inspiration, “ _Memorandum_?”

Mikhail’s hands landed flat on his desk, fingers spread. “Of you!” he snapped. “And of beating the shit out of my corporal.”

“Ah, that. We were just sparring, comrade. He has much work to do if he is ever to stand a chance against someone of my expertise!” He chirped.

“I am not the only one furious with you. Nikolai _also_ wants to know why you specifically tested _Carlos_ , of everyone in my battery, in hand-to-hand combat.”

The truth was that Sergei hated seeing his dearest friend look happy with his lover while Sergei waited in bitter silence for Mikhail to end their own relationship. Nikolai had become soft around Carlos, his eyes coming alive whenever he came across the corporal in a public space. They found little reasons to touch, just a brush of contact, and Nikolai had become a somewhat more bearable personality in the barracks since tumbling into puppy love. The Silver Wolf of _spetsnaz_ was now a fluffy doggy for exactly one man.

Sergei was coldly furious. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far on Carlos, but… well. The enemy was not going to let Carlos go just because he tapped out.

“You make it sound like I did this on purpose,” was what Sergei said out loud, as if he hadn’t. “Perhaps you are just a poor instructor and your corporal is weak.”

A muscle ticked in Mikhail’s jaw. “If you did not do this to piss off Nikolai – _which_ is a possibility – then you did it to piss _me_ off. Like a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum for attention! I am here now, you have my attention. What were you _thinking_?”

“Your attention is not that important to me,” Sergei lied. “I would not hospitalize your corporal because of _you_. You give yourself too much credit.”

“That…” He pointed at Sergei. “That tells me that this _was_ to get my attention! Tell me why.”

“You did not even knock.” Sergei tutted and turned back to his paperwork. “That was very rude of you. Exit my office and request entry, as is _polite_. Must I teach you manners? If you are fortunate, I may have time for you in my busy schedule, yes?”

There was a silence full of explosive irritation. At last, Mikhail exhaled a lungful of his rage. He gentled his voice. “Sergei, my darling…”

Sergei froze, pen to paper, eye snapping to middle distance.

“I cannot fix this if you do not tell me what I have done wrong. And I _do_ want to fix this.” A hand fluttered above the papers and landed warmly on top of Sergei’s. “You mean a great deal to me, my darling. You are hurting and that hurts me. Please, tell me why.”

Sergei’s bottom lip trembled treacherously. He was weak to romance and care and Mikhail _knew_ it, that manipulative bully. He was a child in the face of love, weepy and open-armed, desperately reaching for proof that someone would want to nurture someone like _him_. 

He sneered at his own vulnerability and moved his hand away from his lover’s. He spoke smoothly, without inflection. “You are planning on leaving me.”

Mikhail sputtered. “I – what?”

“You cannot pretend otherwise. You will not spend the night with me, you will not let me see you naked, and you will not fuck me anymore. All I have are conversations with you and occasional ruts like we are still soldiers in the Soviet Army, trying to finish before we are caught and martialed for crimes of homosexuality.”

“That is not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Sergei stood to his full height, which was very impressive. “Prove me wrong,” he ordered. His eye was sharp and cold on Mikhail. “You are abandoning me. Tell me that I am wrong.”

Mikhail _scoffed_ and looked him in the eye. “You are wrong! It is embarrassing how wrong you are.” 

Sergei bristled with offense.

Except Mikhail sighed and his shoulders drooped. “I admit that part of this is my fault. My actions have led you to doubt how seriously I take our relationship and I… I apologize, my darling.”

Sergei’s ire soothed. His own hands began to creep across the desk toward Mikhail’s, callused fingertips grazing over rough knuckles.

“I am not abandoning you, I swear it,” Mikhail promised him. “I meant to surprise you for Christmas.”

“Surprise me?” Sergei frowned at him. “What kind of surprise could it be? What does it have to do with any of this?”

Mikhail cocked an eyebrow. The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk as a low, growling chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Oh-ho-ho… everything, my darling.” He huffed. “Christmas is still two days away. I suppose I can show you your present early, since all I did was worry you. However.” He held up a finger. “You will march yourself down to the infirmary and you will apologize to Carlos, do you understand? You will make reparations to him for the damage you have caused. The next time you have a problem with me, you will bring your problem _to_ me! You will not assault my subordinates with them. Do you understand?”

Sergei sneered. “I am your commanding officer. You do not give me orders.”

“You are my darling.” Mikhail moved his hands those last few centimeters so that they rested over Sergei’s. His hands were wide with fingers thick like sausages, but they were still comedically smaller than Sergei’s own paws. His body heat was enormous, however, a presence all its own, and his warmth seared Sergei’s chilled flesh. “You like to make me happy, like I strive to make you happy. If you make reparations with Carlos, you will also make Nikolai happy. Do you not want to make us happy? _And_ , in the future, if you bring your problems to me first instead of beating the shit out of my subordinates beforehand, we can skip the whole…” He lifted a hand to wave it vaguely through the air. “‘you shitbird, how dare you’ spiel that I will have to give you.”

He waited for Sergei to think that over.

Sergei was a strategic genius and a decorated military officer as well as the founder of the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service and an executive member of Umbrella. He was not stupid. When it came to emotions, however, and understanding appropriate emotional reactions, he was… Unpracticed.

With Mikhail grounding him and this explanation in mind, he was forced to admit that the captain was being logical.

“I would like to skip the ‘you shitbird, how dare you’ spiel next time,” Sergei finally agreed. “Fine. I shall make reparations with your corporal and… discuss my feelings with you… I suddenly feel like a woman.”

“I was married to a woman for twenty years,” Mikhail reminded him. His marriage to Afet had been for protection more than romance, him being gay and her being a woman of ethnic minority in the nationalist province of Leningrad. He and Sergei had had several… explosive, almost injurious discussions about Sergei’s opinion on Mikhail’s dearly departed Tatar wife. Sergei liked to believe that he had learned better than to ever discuss Afet aloud. “I _wish_ you were a woman, then these conversations would be easier.”

“If I were a woman, you would not fuck me.”

Mikhail bobbled his head as he considered this. “That is true, that is true…”

“You have a surprise for me,” Sergei prompted him. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I do. Do you want it here or in your apartment?”

Sergei was overtaken with childish giddiness. “I want it now. Whatever it is. Lock the door if it makes you feel better.”

“Impatient,” Mikhail chided, though his voice had dropped to a heated drawl. “Alright. Get the lubricant.”

Sergei’s heart tripped over itself. As Mikhail turned away to lock the door, Sergei pulled his jar of oil from one of his desk drawers. He slapped it on top of the desk and then moved to shrug off his clothing. His overcoat was already across the back of his chair.

He was now largely convinced that the surprise was going to be a tattoo of his name on Mikhail’s penis, which was a delicious thought. Whatever it was, if Mikhail was telling him to get out lubricant, that meant they were about to fuck.

Mikhail turned around and braced his back against the door, watching with a slight smile on his face as Sergei stood gloriously bare before him.

The behemoth that was Colonel Sergei Vladimirov was a visage of ruined strength. The scars that slashed across the right side of his face and had claimed his one eye had come from shattered glass as his vehicle had been blasted into the air after his troop had driven over a landmine. It had been the Soviet-Afghan War and one of the supply routes to Kabul had been littered with hidden bombs by the Mujahideen, the guerilla groups operating in Afghanistan. In actuality, multiple supply routes had been littered with landmines by both the Russians and the Afghans. It had been that one supply route that had changed Sergei’s body irrevocably.

The scars across his face faded just below his jaw, his head having turned and protected his jugular unthinkingly as his vehicle had rolled. He had been forcibly ejected from the jeep moments before the gas tank had lit up and sent the vehicle sky high. He had been at such a distance that his life had been saved, but too close to escape the flames. His uniform had melted into his skin, causing the glossy, writhing mess of flesh that began under his right clavicle and ended just above his right hip. His right nipple was gone and there was an indented triangle of flesh just below his pectoral where a rib had been surgically removed. The damage did not stray to his left side, for whatever reason, or to his back, where he instead had rough calluses from where he had skidded across the road.

His body was a story in survival and in maddening, unending agony.

Mikhail approached him and pulled him down into a kiss. “My beautiful darling,” he burred. “Let me show you that you never have to doubt me again.”

That was another point in favor of Sergei’s name tattooed on Mikhail’s penis. He was jumping in his skin, his cock already half-hard at the very idea of such a possessive, permanent claim.

Mikhail pulled off his vest and shirt first. He was not rugged, ribbed muscle, not like a younger man would be. Nonetheless, he was sturdy and thick, as strong as an adorably short stone pillar.

Sergei dropped his head and sucked a bruise into Mikhail’s throat, hands already grabbing onto a brick-solid waist for support.

“Impatient,” Mikhail chided again with a cackle. He put a hand to Sergei’s chest and pushed him away. “Watch,” he commanded.

Sergei watched. Just so Mikhail knew how seriously he was watching, he hopped up on his desk – tearing and wrinkling his papers, sending some to the floor – and slapped his hands down on its surface so that there would be no distraction. His single eye was trained on Mikhail as he lifted first one foot onto the nearest chair, brought it down, and then put the other up so that he could take off his boots and socks. His hands unclasped his belt and unbuttoned his fatigues before pushing them down his thighs and stepping out of them.

“Are you watching?” he asked, even though he was looking directly at Sergei and Sergei was undoubtedly, without blinking, watching.

“Yes,” Sergei answered, hands clasping the edge of the desk with such force that the wood bit into his palms.

Mikhail rolled his briefs down his legs and, at last, was naked. For the first time in two months, Mikhail was bare to him. He spaced his feet apart and rested his hands at the small of his back at parade rest, chin tilted up and spine straight.

Sergei’s chest rattled as he breathed in deeply, suddenly and overwhelmingly relieved. It had felt like Mikhail had not just been wearing his pants for the past two months, but a mask. Such a small thing, and yet Sergei had felt like his lover had hidden from him.

The first thing he noticed was that there was no ink. He pouted as he turned his head from one side to the other, as if he just wasn’t looking at it right.

“Your cock _does_ make me very happy,” Sergei informed him. “But I do not see this surprise you were telling me about that necessitated keeping your clothes on for two months.”

Mikhail had a smug grin on his face. “Come closer,” he urged. “Acquaint yourself with your present.”

Sergei slid off the desk and dropped to his knees in front of his lover, sitting back on his calves. He noted that Mikhail was also already half-heard, a fat drop of fluid on his cockhead –

No.

That wasn’t fluid. That was _metal_.

Sergei ducked his head closer.

There was a barbell protruding from Mikhail’s glans. His breathing stuttering as he brought a single hand up to hold his lover’s penis, pointing the cockhead toward his face. His thumb brushed more metal just beneath Mikhail’s fat dick and he lifted the member higher to look underneath.

There were seven straight barbells following a horizontal line along the bottom of Mikhail’s shaft, like a ladder of metal beads.

Sergei’s cock jerked to attention and his sphincter fluttered as he clamped down on nothing. His mouth felt dry as he massaged his thumb over the titanium spheres. Mikhail twitched in his hand.

“That,” Mikhail hummed, “is for _your_ pleasure.”

“All these months?”

“Would you be surprised to know how long it takes for this kind of body modification to heal?” Mikhail asked him with humor. “I _could_ have shown you sooner, but I would have had to wear a condom – ”

“ _No_.” Sergei pressed a faithful kiss to the metal bead sticking out of the cockhead. Mikhail gasped. “No condom.”

Sergei _despised_ condoms. He despised the waste of his lover’s seed, the _clinical_ sensation of even the thinnest glove inside of him. Every vein and centimeter of searing, silky, iron-hard flesh was to be enjoyed without a barrier in the way and Sergei had been vehement about this from the very first time they had fallen into bed. Sergei did not wear condoms and he would not let Mikhail fuck him if he insisted on wearing a condom.

Perhaps, for others, this would have been a very big problem. Mikhail, however, had only given some initial, halfhearted protests about sexually transmitted diseases before relenting. It had been the most easily won argument Sergei had ever had with the stubborn man.

“I _thought_ that would be how you felt. And then, by the time it did heal, it was so close to Christmas… You are impossible to shop for, you know. This was the best gift I could think of. Something uniquely for you, that you cannot buy for yourself.”

“I love it,” Sergei whispered. He dragged his tongue up the pathway between the barbells on the underside of Mikhail’s cock. He lapped at them, tasting metal and musk. Without conscious thought, he was humping the air, his hole winking as he thought about every one of those balls dragging against his insides, about them pressing into his prostate. “Merry Christmas to me,” he breathed, and he slurped Mikhail’s cock into his mouth.

Sergei was, admittedly, longer and thicker than his smaller lover in the genital department. That was to be expected considering he was the size of a small giant. That was not to say that Mikhail was not impressive. After all, there was a reason Sergei enjoyed referring to his lover’s cock as his ‘third leg’.

Sergei felt the bead of metal in Mikhail’s glans beat against the back of his throat as he bobbed his head, his hand wrapped around the base where he could not reach. Mikhail was panting above him, a hand in Sergei’s hair, petting his bangs out of his face.

“I – ah – see that you – hah – are enjoying your… your gift. You look so hungry – ah – my darling.”

The barbells underneath rolled over Sergei’s bottom lip and clacked against his teeth. He flattened his tongue and they trekked over the pink muscle like tires. Already, Mikhail was leaking down his throat, thick and salty. Perhaps the piercings were for Sergei’s pleasure, but that did not mean Mikhail was earning nothing from this.

Sergei was a slobbering _mess_ as he pulled away, his bottom lip tingling and his cock dribbling over his lap. “I want my gift. Now.” He gripped his hands around Mikhail’s solid waist and used him to lever himself back to his feet. He stumbled to the desk and slapped his hands down on some important financial document he was undoubtedly about to sign with his sperm very soon. He spread his legs apart to account for how short his lover was and leaned forward. “Do it,” he demanded. He sagged his spine to push his ass out.

“I think we are done with ‘rutting like soldiers in the Soviet Army’ for the time being, no?” Mikhail held his cock with one hand as he walked around the desk and grabbed Sergei’s heavy overcoat. He found the most open space on the floor between the chairs set up for guests in front of Sergei’s desk and the door and laid the coat out. “Here is good. On your back so I can see your face.”

Sergei’s knees were _weak_. He swiped his tongue over his lips. “Next time,” he tried to say with command. It came out sounding vaguely like begging. “This is _my_ gift, yes?” He was thinking of where his prostate was and where those barbells were going to drag inside of him. Bent over his desk, Mikhail would be pushing down on his prostate with every thrust and those barbells would bruise his gland until he was sobbing. Mikhail also had this little trick he liked to do where he pulled out until it was only his cockhead inside of Sergei and he would continuously jackrabbit down and against Sergei’s prostate, which made that single metal bead in Mikhail’s glans particularly delicious.

“Please, _Misha_ , don’t you love me?”

Looking over his shoulder, he caught how Mikhail’s expression softened. “I suppose I have some overwhelming affection for you,” Mikhail teased. “But were you not the one to say – ”

“Never!” Sergei lied with desperation. “I would never complain about sex with you.”

“Perhaps I am old and my memory is bad,” Mikhail deferred with a twinkle in his eyes. He sauntered up behind Sergei and pressed a trail of kisses over his spine. His one hand skimmed over the desk and snatched the oil. A single slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Ah! That is tight. My God, haven’t you played with your ass at all?”

Sergei relaxed his entire body, one eye slipping shut. “To what end?” he asked derisively. “What would I have gained?” Sergei did not understand the individuals who could get off by masturbating. Sergei needed… he required… He _wanted_ …

“Yes, what _would_ you have gained?” Mikhail drawled. “Without a loving, devoted partner to touch you?” His slick finger thrust inside to the last knuckle. He pulled out and two fingers massaged his sphincter before pushing slowly forward. “To taste you?” A wide tongue traced the valley of his spine. “To tell you how beautiful you are when you give in?”

Sergei moaned helplessly. A third finger joined the other, introducing a slight, pleasurable burn. Mikhail curved his digits and applied pressure to Sergei’s prostate, not moving until Sergei was trembling.

“Are you ready for your gift?” Mikhail rumbled. “ _Beautiful_?”

Sergei snagged his bottom lip with his front teeth, a delighted chuckle dancing up from his lungs. “Yes, yes,” he answered, gyrating his hips back on Mikhail’s fingers. “Are you ready to _give_ me my gift? You have been taking your time about it.”

“Oh, I am ready.” Mikhail set his teeth to the back of Sergei’s neck – not clamping down, but simply holding. Letting Sergei feel his hot breath, the lazy swirl of his tongue, the bony edges of his grin. He pulled his fingers out and, a moment, later, his cockhead slipped inside. “Spread just a little wider,” he purred.

“Or you could grow a few centimeters taller,” Sergei growled, jittery to his soul as he obeyed instantly. “I wanted sex, not to do squats.”

“You are good at multitasking,” he was reminded. “You can do both.”

Sergei felt Mikhail shift. There was a devious, excited cackle.

Mikhail thrust downward, his cockhead shoving against Sergei’s prostate. That single metal ball grinded against the bundle of nerves and Sergei _wailed_ as his knees buckled, almost dropping him to the floor. Mikhail’s spongy, broad head felt like it was wearing brass knuckles as he repeated to, continuously and without mercy, jackrabbit only the tip of his member into Sergei’s sensitive gland.

“Uh! Uhn! MMM!” Sergei dropped his upper body over his desk, his arms shaking as he held himself up by his elbows. “ _M-Misha_!”

Mikhail took advantage of his new vulnerable position and blanketed his back. The angle of his thrusts changed and, in one fell plunge, his cock slid deep into Sergei’s innards. The ladder of barbells rolled over his inner walls like the wheels of a train, each set driving into Sergei’s prostate in pulses and then steamrolling past.

“AaaaAAH!” Sergei bit down on his own forearm, his cock gushing precum.

“Too much… my darling?” Mikhail gasped from above him. “My God… I did not know… it would be this intense…”

Mikhail’s hips came flush against Sergei’s buttocks and he stopped there a moment. His cock twitched helplessly inside of Sergei’s, surrounded by tight heat and stimulated by the piercings that pulled at his sensitive member.

“Fuck me,” Sergei demanded, pushing his hips back. He choked as that piercing in Mikhail’s glans pressed its shape without compromise into his guts, the tiniest bruise that lit up Sergei’s entire body.

Mikhail nibbled at Sergei’s skin. “Slow… and gentle…”

Sergei gasped in offense. “Don’t you _dare_!”

Mikhail only cackled. He withdrew oh-so carefully and every barbell… dragged… and pressed… without give…

Sergei’s eye rolled into the back of his head, face slack and mouth gaping open, his ass clenching down and making every bead even _more_ intense!

Mikhail paused again, just his tip inside. He released a harsh wheeze as he shifted his feet, his trembling thighs pressed against Sergei’s own. His hands came to rest on the small of Sergei’s spine as he reared back.

“Careful,” Mikhail rumbled, more like a reminder to himself. And then he hammered his cockhead against Sergei’s prostate again, over and over. Sergei was never going to forget the shape of that single barbell if he lived a hundred years more.

“Nnnnnghhhaaaa! _Misha_!”

The angle changed and Mikhail slid completely inside of him and stopped as soon as his hips slapped against Sergei’s ass.

Sergei was an intelligent man. He could understand a pattern when it was ruining his ass.

“ _Misha_ … My sweet, kind _Misha…_ Please… Christmas… Is soon, yes? Be kind, _Misha_.” 

“How should I…?” He slowly withdraw and Sergei couldn’t stop himself from flinching over every set of metal balls that massaged his prostate as they popped out of his loose hole. “Be kind to you, beautiful?”

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he wheezed. “Fuck m-me until I… _cum_. _All_ of you.” The man had been gifted by genetics and _God_ in the cock department and yet he preferred to use barely more than his tip to shatter Sergei’s mind. Sergei could not take much more of this.

“Hmm… That does not sound kind at all.”

It was just Sergei and that decorated cockhead once more poised to assault his swollen bundle of nerves.

Sergei looked down his body. His balls and cock sat on the desk. His dick was drooling over important paperwork, his testicles drawn up and twitching.

“But… if that is what you want.”

He did not have time to rebuke before that metal-crowned cock was ramming into his prostate yet again, as if his meaning of kind was vastly different from Mikhail’s. Perhaps his lover was cruel after all! Mikhail was grunting with the force of his thrusts and the effort of making sure not to slip.

Sergei’s one eye opened wide and wider, his vision _pulsing_. He was breathing _fire_ and his chest was tight, he _burned_ where Mikhail was fucking him, and he felt the punch of that metal ball against his testicles, against his bladder, into the base of his own cock. His knees failed and banged against the desk and now Mikhail had to bend his own legs to keep his aim true, squelching and squishing in his lube and pre-cum slick ass as those few world-altering centimeters bruised his prostate until it was so unbearably sensitive that Sergei was _sobbing_. He scrabbled at his desk, grabbing the opposite edge with his fists and pulling himself across it, mindless with a pleasure so intense and boiling that it was painful, that it felt like too much! He wasn’t sure if he was about to cum or piss himself, but he knew he would scream if Mikhail did not stop.

“Too… much?” Mikhail panted.

“Don’t stop!” Sergei keened, tears trickling out of his eye. “So – aah – so – unh – yes!”

Mikhail whimpered himself and shifted his hips. His member speared Sergei open, his balls slapping against Sergei’s cheeks.

All of those metal beads drove over his prostate with the speed of a bullet train and Sergei was gone.

Someone _did_ scream, but he was not sure if it was him or Mikhail. Vaguely, he felt his lover thrust into him a handful more times, his every breath loud and damp. He came with a long moan, thick cum spurting inside of Sergei, and then fell forward.

Sergei kneaded at the papers scattered across his desk, sobbing. Mikhail laid across his back, pressing gentle kisses between his shoulder blades.

For precious minutes, there were no words exchanged. Mikhail had fallen into his post-orgasm habit of gently massaging Sergei’s ass and back as if to ease his soreness and licking the sweat from his skin. Sergei laid there, only kept from sliding to the ground because his upper torso was laying on his desk. His legs were useless and his genitals were being pinched uncomfortably between his body and the wooden surface beneath him.

“Was the wait worth it, dear?” Mikhail asked with a hoarse voice.

Sergei rolled his tongue around in his mouth until he found his voice. It was somewhere in the back of his skull, screaming _‘YES!’_

“I don’t know if it was worth apologizing to _Oliveira_ ,” he drawled.

Mikhail swatted his bum. “What cheek on you.”

“Yes, it is one of my better features.”

Mikhail snorted. “Up, up… We will get dressed and go find a shower. After the shower, bed. Let’s sleep together tonight, yes? In the morning, you _will_ apologize to Carlos. The better you apologize… Who knows. Maybe I will lay down on your bed and let you… play with your gift. _Maybe_! If you are good.”

Mikhail’s cock had long since slipped free of him, leaving him empty and throbbing. His lover stood back and stumbled to his clothing, going through the arduous task of getting dressed even when he looked like his bones had become pudding.

Sergei pushed his hands across the desk until he was standing again, a monumental effort all its own. As he straightened out, a spark of discomfort zapped up his spine.

With awe, he realized that he was going to limp out of his office. His prostate was so utterly tortured, his ass so pleasurably raw from those metal beads, that the simple motion of bringing his legs back together had set off lightening-hot aftershocks.

“I can be very good, _Misha_ ,” he purred. He was even more careful than Mikhail as he got redressed, the sensation of oil and cum slipping down his thighs making him shudder. “Especially with the right motivation.”

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly, I saw a tag that said 'cock piercing' and the first thing I said to AnotherAnon0 was 'SERGEI WOULD HAVE A COCK PIERCING'... And then, somewhere along the way, Mikhail was the one who ended up getting cock piercings. This story would not exist if I had not seen the 'cock piercing' tag, so, thank you, The SilverWxlf! 
> 
> For AnontherAnon0: Do what makes you happy! 
> 
> As I wrote this, I was thinking of the size difference between Mikhail (5'10") and Sergei (6'7") like -
> 
> (Thank you, AnotherAnon0 for showing me how to put images in AO3)


End file.
